


if you see this tweet (pls DM me)

by TheEffinMitchell



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 14:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30073410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEffinMitchell/pseuds/TheEffinMitchell
Summary: Ava Silva@sciencemebitchGIRL AT AREALA STATION WHO JUST TRIED TO GIVE ME HER PHONE NUMBER THROUGH THE TRAIN WINDOW IM SORRY I COULDNT TAKE A PICTURE FAST ENOUGH PLS DM MEIn which Ava and Beatrice meet at the subway station and Beatrice decides to give Ava her number at the worst possible moment.(prompt based on a tweet)[REPOST]
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 7
Kudos: 88





	if you see this tweet (pls DM me)

In the daytime, the subway station is a hubbub of commotion, a living, breathing, writhing mass of humanity. Rich, poor, somewhere in between – people from every end of society’s spectrum join and mingle, shoulder pressed against shoulder as they push and shove their way through the throngs of travelers. Personal space is a hot commodity during the morning and evening commutes, but as the day slowly ends and the crowds taper off, room to breathe slowly opens up.

There’s actual space between people and Ava takes full advantage of this, glad to have solid footing to place her crutches without, y’know –  _ actually  _ stabbing someone in the foot. She maneuvers easily through the cavernous underground, careful not to tread too closely to the ledge as she makes her way to her usual platform. It’s been a long, exhausting day of being poked and prodded, and all she wants now is to make it back to her cubby hole of an apartment and stuff her face with cheap takeout before passing out in bed.

_ ‘If I order it now, will delivery be there by the time I arrive?’ _ she muses, already considering her various food options. Pizza was her tried and true go-to, and her stomach growls at the thought of garlic knots and cheesy overload, but she’d also had an unrelenting craving for dumplings ever since JC posted a throwback picture of his recent excursion through Asia. Eventually, she settles on potstickers and noodles and looks around for a place to sit while she waits for the train.

She spots a relatively free bench a few yards down, the lone occupant a young woman around her age, perhaps a year or two older. She looks approachable enough, and so Ava makes her way over, careful not to startle her as she starts to get closer (because duh, she knows what it’s like to be a woman alone at night, and have an unexpected stranger come into your personal space). 

“Hey,” she greets, offering a shy smile as she nods at the empty space beside her, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

The woman glances up and Ava unconsciously braces herself for what she knows is to come next. It doesn’t bother her like it used to –  _ she’s not ashamed of her disability  _ – but the instinct to shrink back is still reflexive after years of pity-filled stares. Instead, however, she’s met with a kind smile as the woman graciously scoots over, tugging her bag closer to create extra space.

“Thanks,” she grins, leaning her crutches against the arm rest as she shucks off her backpack and carefully lowers herself into the seat. 

“Of course,” the woman replies in a warm, British accent, gaze returning to her cell phone as she reads through an article or newsletter; Ava isn’t sure which, but the distinct lack of pictures makes it clear she isn’t reading the daily comics or browsing social media. Ava’s attention turns to her own phone, opening the delivery app as she places the order for her dinner. She calculates the timing, pleased to know she’ll get home with a few extra minutes to spare, and confirms the order. 

Grabbing her earbuds, Ava plugs it into her phone and opens up Spotify, letting the music blare as she pulls out a coloring book from the main compartment of her bag. Digging further into the mess of notebooks and paperwork, she unearths a flattened box of crayola that had seen far better days, giving a triumphant  _ “aha!” _ as she pulls it out. 

Selecting a random color, she flips the book to where she had last left off, humming happily to herself as she slowly shades between the pre-drawn lines. From the corner of her periphery, Ava notices the woman giving her a curious look, eyes flickering inquisitively to the page as she draws a new crayon and fills in another shape. 

“Childish, right?” she asks, lips tugging into a mischievous grin as her bench mate flushes self-consciously at having been caught.

She gives a laugh that’s half cough, her own lips twitching with a small, playful smile. “No, not at all,” she assures, clearing her throat, “I just… ah, I personally wouldn’t have colored in brown and yellow so close together like that…”

“Hmm?” Ava’s head gives a thoughtful tilt. “Is that what those colors are? I’m color blind, so I wouldn’t really know.”

The woman is so quick to apologize, Ava wonders if she suffers whiplash. “I’m so sorry! That was thoughtless of me!”

Ava snickers, shoulders shaking as she tries to repress her laughter. “I’m kidding, don’t worry about it. They were the only colors left in my last box of crayons, so…” she motions vaguely to the page. 

“That was mean,” the woman accuses, though she sounds anything but upset. “I'd genuinely feared I’d offended you.”

“Lady, it’s gonna take a lot more to offend me than telling me my color choices are a bit off.”

“A little more than a bit…” she murmurs, earning another grin from Ava. 

“You got me there,” Ava replies. “Guess it's a good thing I don’t really care what it looks like when I’m done.”

“Then why even do it?” the woman asks, curiously.

“I mean, for starters, it’s just fun? Or like… it’s calming, and it gives me something else to focus on for awhile when everything else around me is chaotic or confusing. It’s also something really small and simple that helps build my hand-eye coordination and dexterity. I mean, you see the crutches,” she says, pointing to the equipment beside her, “and probably think I have issues with my legs – which is true, to be fair. But I used to be quadripalegic, and I’m still a work in progress. My upper body is a lot stronger than my lower body, but my precision and finer actions need more practice. I do like… actual therapy, but the little things add up…"

"Or so I'm told, anyway," she finishes wryly, shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. Ava glances at the woman beside her and can immediately tell it's not the answer she had expected – but then again, who  _ expects _ to be told by someone they were previously paralyzed and now colors in children's entertainment books as practice? 

"You can ask, y'know," she says, chuckling as the woman appears at a loss on what to say.

"I wasn't… I mean, I don't  _ know _ you," she answers, "It's not my place to pry."

"You're allowed to be curious," Ava replies, amused by her awkward attempt at remaining polite. "I know most people are. But hey, if it's such a big deal… hi there, my name is Ava."

She offers her hand, grinning as the woman reaches out and hesitantly shakes it. "Bea…" she offers, unsurely. 

"Like the letter b? Or the swarming, flying needles of death kind of bee?" 

She shrugs, "Just Bea."

"Okay,  _ just Bea,"  _ Ava mocks, though it's far from derisive. "We've officially been introduced. Now you know me. Ask away."

Bea fights a smile, the corners of her lips struggling to remain neutral even as her cheeks twitch. "That's really not how this kind of thing works," she answers evenly.

"Says who?" Ava challenges. "You may not know me  _ well, _ but you know me! Even if it's just for this one moment in time, we're temporary acquaintances."

"Strangely enough, I can't really argue with that logic" she concedes, head shaking in feigned exasperation. "And I suppose it's not too much to admit that I  _ am _ curious. I know some people are able regain some functionality, but I wasn't aware quadriplegia was anything that could be cured or reversed?"

"It's not," Ava states, before quickly correcting, "Not yet, anyway. I was paralyzed from the chest down as a child. My mother was killed in the accident that caused it, and I spent ten years of my life in a hospital bed at the orphanage. I was able to regain some upper body function on my own, but we weren't extremely funded, so I wasn't really able to get too much in terms of therapy or medical intervention."

"I'm… I'm so sorry to hear that," says Bea, and she seems genuine in her intention. "That must have been awful."

"It wasn't all bad," Ava replies, and she means it, a fond smile on her face as she remembers Diego. "I had a roommate, much younger than me, but… he was my best friend, and he helped me with a lot of the things I wasn't able to do on my own. He kept me feeling… grounded, most days – when the depression sunk in and I was feeling particularly sorry for myself. He'd always tell me that I was a bird, free to fly where I pleased, just so long as I made the effort to flap my own wings."

"He actually got adopted, which was both the happiest and saddest day of my life. I didn't want to see him leave, but I couldn't be selfish… especially not when he was getting what so many of us at the orphanage dreamed of."

"He sounds wonderful," Bea interjects, "You were both lucky to have each other."

Ava smiles and nods her agreement. " Me, more than him," she says, before waving her hand as though to clear the air of that particular conversation. "Anyway, I'm getting off track. So, about two years ago, when I was 17, Jillian Salvius of Arqtech came for a visit. She was one our few benefactors and was there to like… improve her public image or whatever? Y'know, take pictures of her reading books to kids or serving a meal in the dining room. That kind of thing…"

"Anyway, they kind of put me in the corner, didn't really want me in any shots because I guess an orphaned quadriplegic is a little  _ too _ 'sob story' for the feel good angle they were going for. But she was kind of my hero and I refused to be silent about it. She'd created this super cool wheelchair that you could like…  _ move with your brain! _ Think like, Charles Xavier from X-Men."

"I got so excited, and all I really wanted was a chance to meet her, " she goes on, smiling at the memory. "Thankfully she took notice and came over to talk. Eventually we got into why she was there… said she was actually working on a really big project that would help people like me, and that she had come here to build good press before bringing it forward and presenting it to her investors. I must have made a good enough impression on her, because she asked if she was given the go-ahead if I was interested in being a participant in their human trials."

"I assume you said yes," Bea guesses, correctly. 

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't," Ava confirms, gesturing to herself as though to say ' _ here I am!'  _ "I didn't actually think she'd go through with it, that she was just being really nice at the time. But to make an already long story short, she got the funding she needed, she kept her word, I signed a million waivers and non-disclosures, and basically gave my permission for her to science the shit outta me."

"Science the…  _ shit _ outta you?" Bea repeats, both amused and perplexed.

"I mean, I'm sure there's a more technical term for it," Ava responds, nonchalantly. "But that's basically what happened. The first year was a lot of research and development, stuff I couldn't explain to you even if I knew how. I went through a lot of testing too… I think I spent a good portion of a week in and out of an MRI machine, and they tried some other possible treatments just to see how I'd respond."

"Start of the second year is when they finally started putting what they'd created into practice. I think I'm on my… fifth? Sixth surgery now? But they got one of the top neurosurgeons to repair my spine and implanted these, I dunno, devices I guess you could call them throughout my body and one in my head. They're like little radio towers that send and receive signals to and from my limbs, and they allow me to move my body."

"Wow, that's… that's amazing!" Bea replies, and Ava is pleased to see she seems genuinely interested. "You're a living, breathing miracle..."

Ava blushes at the awed look she receives, coughing to hide her sudden bout of shyness. "I, uh… I guess that's one way of putting it," she grins, "I'm lucky is all I know."

"However you choose to spin it, I'm… I'm happy for you, truly."

She snorts, eying the woman beside her. "Thanks. Coming from a stranger I'll probably never see again, I appreciate the sentiment."

It's Bea's turn to laugh, “What happened to temporary acquaintances?”

“Using my own words against me, I see,” Ava replies, proudly. “We’ve come so far.”

“And yet our time is so short,” Bea adds. 

Ava glances at her phone, catching the time. “Perhaps, but we’ve had longer than we should have. I think my train is late.”   


“Oh?” Bea fidgets with her own phone, quickly unlocking the device. “I hadn’t noticed, but you’re right… mine should have been here by now as well. I wonder what the hold up is?”

“Could be anything,” Ava shrugs, sighing as she checks the status of her food. “At this rate, I’m gonna miss my takeout delivery. Hopefully no one steals my dinner if I tell them to leave it in front of the door…”

Bea huffs. “That’s definitely a gamble.”

“Well, I’m no stranger to taking risks, so I’ll take that bet,” Ava says, shoving her phone back into her pocket. A complacent sigh eases past her tired lips, arms stretching above her head as she tries to work out a kink in her back. “At this point, the food is just a bonus. I really just want to collapse into bed and sleep for twenty hours.”

“Long day?”

“Mhmm,” she nods, leaning into the backrest. “I actually just came from one of Arqtech’s satellite locations. Did my usual physical therapy and then they ran some diagnostic tests. They’ve been making some improvements on things, so if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get surgery number seven under my belt soon enough.”

Bea stares, contemplating Ava for a moment before asking, “Do you ever get scared?”

“Huh? Of what?” Bea shrugs, as if to say  _ ‘all of it?’  _ and Ava shakes her head. “Nah, not really. I mean, the first surgery or two was definitely nerve wracking, but that was more or less fear of the unknown. I didn’t know if the implants would be successful. I’m almost into my third year of this now, so I’m pretty used to it all. I still get anxious though, thinking about how long the devices will last, what will happen if they suddenly stop working, so on and so forth… but I guess that’s why I’m the guinea pig – to work out all the kinks before bringing this to the masses.”

“Well, I think you’re very brave for that.”

“Brave? Hah, I just… had nothing to lose…”

Something akin to sympathy flashes across Bea’s face, and Ava is surprised by how much she hates it. Up until that moment, she hadn’t looked at Ava once as though she was the charity case most people saw her as, and she’s quick to try and bring back the casual friendliness between them. Quickly reaching into her backpack, she scrounges around the main compartment until she retrieves a small remote-looking device. 

“Hey, you wanna see something cool?” she asks, a rogue smile toying across her face. “Here, take this.”

Bea blinks, eying the device warily as Ava places it in her hand. “What is this? What is it for?”

“It’s cool, you’re gonna like it!” Ava insists, hastily collecting her things and shoving them into her bag for safeguarding. “Okay, I’m ready… press the big button in the middle!”

“I… I don’t want to…” Bea hesitates, eyes bouncing suspiciously between the younger woman and the strange remote she had been handed.

“It’s fine, I promise,” she grins, nodding her head as Bea’s thumb hovers over the button. 

“I… okay,” she relents, curiosity winning out as she quickly pushes down, pressing the button before she can lose her nerve. She gives a terrified squeak as Ava’s body slumps, and Bea has to scramble to stop her from keeling forward into the concrete. “Oh my god! Oh my god – what? What happened? Why are you… what is happening!?”

“Press it again,” Ava manages to mumble.

“What?!” she half-shrieks.

“Press… the button… again…”

Despite her better judgement, Bea slams her thumb over the button and it’s like an electrical current shoots through Ava, her body jolting of its own accord. It takes a few moments, but eventually she’s able to sit up on her own, shaking the feeling back into her arms as she does her best to repress the laughter bubbling from her chest.

_ “What was that?”  _ Bea demands, all but throwing the remote back into Ava’s hands. “That… what… your body just… I thought you died!”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, hand held to her mouth, smothering the snickers that threaten to consume her whole. “I’m sorry, that was a really terrible joke…”   


Bea stares incredulously, fist clenched against her heart in fright. “That was a joke? That was terrifying!”

“No… no, you’re right,” Ava nods, solemn despite the smile fighting its way back onto her lips. “I’m sorry, that really wasn’t funny. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Bea agrees, admonishingly, and Ava feels the stirrings of true regret. But then she catches the corner of Bea’s lips turn upwards, quirking slightly until a full blown smile spreads across her lips and she lets out her own heartfelt laugh. 

Ava, perhaps not so subconsciously, thinks her laughter is something she’d like to hear again and again. She finds it strange how quickly she’d opened up to this random woman, and while Ava was normally a chatterbox and always willing to share her story with anyone willing to listen, it had never been this easy or smooth. 

“Okay, but seriously,” says Bea, as the laughter dies down. “What was that?”

“I told you the devices are like little radio towers,” she explains, stashing the remote back into her backpack. “Sometimes the frequency just needs a little fine-tuning, or other times you need to restart the devices. You pressed the on-off button.”

“So I actually  _ could  _ have killed you?”

“No, I would have been fine,” Ava assures, “They can monitor and manually restart my system remotely, so even if you decided to just walk away and leave me as is, they would have gotten an alert back at Arqtech about a malfunction and could wirelessly get me back up and walking.”

“That’s actually quite fascinating,” Bea admits, before adding,  _ “You’re _ fascinating, if I’m being honest.”

“Me? Fascinating?” Ava smirks, “Don’t tell me you wanna  _ science me  _ now too?”

Bea’s face tinges pink, but before she can respond, the telltale whine of an approaching train catches both their ears. “Oh, that’s me!” she announces, quickly standing to pack her things.

Ava won’t admit it aloud, but she’s sad to see her go. “Just when things were getting good,” she teases, “Thanks for being my temporary acquaintance – it was fun!”

“It was,” Bea agrees, backing up slowly as she makes her way to the train, “I… uhm, it was nice knowing you… even just for this moment.”

Ava grins widely, offering a small wave in parting as Bea finally turns and enters the train, smile dwindling as she watches the other woman settle into a seat through the windows. Eventually, she looks away, intending to pull out her coloring book once more when a loud banging catches her ear. Perking up, her brows pinch in confusion as she searches for the source of the strange noise, only to do a double take as Bea holds a notebook to the window. 

Scrambling for her crutches, she rushes closer, squinting at what she realizes is a set of numbers.  _ ‘Numbers…? Oh, her phone number!?’ _

Ava yanks her phone from her pocket, hands shaking as she tries to balance and hold it steady, attempting to take a picture as the train begins to leave the station. Frantically, she opens up her camera and snaps a quick shot just as it pulls away, arms dropping as she catches her last, fleeting glimpse of Bea before she’s completely gone.

With a sigh, Ava hobbles back to her seat and pulls up the picture she had taken. Her heart skips a beat. And then another.

“Fuck…” she groans, head lolling back in frustration.

The picture is blurry. 


End file.
